Song for a Winter's Dawn
by Fuyu no Akegata
Summary: Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues. coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst
1. So Cold

**Genre: **Angst  
**Status: **WIP  
**Summary: **Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues...  
**Warnings:** coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst, spoiler of a name mentioned in Ch 367  
**Disclaimer: **You know Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, because if I owned them, yaoi pairings would be canon…"So Cold" lyrics belong to Breaking Benjamin Set within Hatochan's Tolerant Intolerance universe, eighteen years before the start of the Naruto series... a prequel to Before the Journey and the Rest... Dedicated to my own sensei... for everything...Hard to believe all this started from a simple Police song, ne?

_**So Cold**_

_Crowded streets are cleared away one by one  
Hollow heroes separate as they run  
You're so cold keep your hand in mine  
Wise men wonder while strong men die_

_Show me how it ends it's alright  
Show me how defenseless you really are  
Satisfied and empty inside  
Well, that's alright, let's give this another try_

_If you find your family, don't you cry  
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry  
You're so cold, but you feel alive  
Lay your hand on me one last time _

_Show me how it ends it's alright  
Show me how defenseless you really are  
Satisfied and empty inside  
Well, that's alright, let's give this another try_

[ Tuesday - early November - 18 years before opening of series

The man walked slowly through the pre-dawn light, savoring the eddying swirls of mist that clung around his feet and the faint smell of wood smoke wafting through the early morning air. He smiled as he breathed out, content as a child with the warm clouds of breath and the slight crisp bite in the air, not quite enough to sting as you breathed, but not the soft caress it would be later in the day. He stopped to enjoy the quiet call of a cuckoo. He didn't often take the time for a leisurely stroll, in truth he was usually far too busy with missions and training, but he remembered his own jounin-sensei teaching him the importance of occasionally taking time to just appreciate life and set things in perspective in their world that too often included death.

Although they weren't supposed to meet yet for another hour, he knew his young charge would already be awake, probably going through his katas even at this early hour. It didn't matter that they had trained till late the evening before, walking home slowly due to the boy's bruised side sustained when he was just the slightest bit too slow blocking a kick. He was almost drooping with exhaustion when they parted company under that blood red sky. A maple leaf fluttered past his vision, and he paused to appreciate the contrast of the dark crimson against the silvery white of the frosty grass, smiling as he realized it was almost the same shade as his stubborn young student's hair. He ran a hand through his own spiky yellow locks, looking forward to a warm cup of tea and conversation with his student's father, hoping things wouldn't be too horribly awkward this morning.

The older man had been in disgrace since the botched disaster of a mission a few months prior, but he couldn't just ignore a former comrade, especially one who was close friends with his own mentor and father of his own student; everyone made mistakes at some time. Unfortunately, the stronger and more powerful and visible a shinobi was, the more glaring those occasional mistakes were, and the more difficult it was to face everyone else afterwards, and to face yourself in the mirror every morning.

He could sense the sky just starting to lighten behind him and hurried his step. The day promised a brilliance all the more appreciated in this season balanced between the end of autumn and beginning of winter. He dug a package from his vest pocket as he approached the wall surrounding the residence. His student's tendency to focus so completely on the mission at hand occasionally left him open to injury, and although the jounin would never purposefully use the young boy, he was hard pressed to ignore the attention of the female acquaintances he had made during their many joint trips to the hospital. The small package contained a set of special chakra-infused bandages he had laughingly beguiled from one of those sweetly smiling acquaintances at the hospital.

After a visit last week to re-align his own dislocated shoulder, she had mentioned the danger the young chuunin courted when he repeatedly injured and re-healed body parts that were already using so much chakra just to grow, and he had asked her if she could locate something to help the boy, as training injuries were an inevitable part of growing up as a shinobi. Most young ninja's-in-training were quite a bit older before they started training at such a high level, but his student had graduated from the academy several years ahead of the normal schedule. Hopefully, judicious use of the special strips of fabric could help ease some of the seeming fragility in the body that belied the strength he knew resided in the boy. He didn't want the boy's body burning itself out trying to compensate for the extra chakra drain that growing combined with healing placed on him. He was already lean and more than a bit bony; his sensei didn't want to see that change to gaunt and emaciated.

He went to the gate and approached the house. Despite the light frost on the ground, he smelled no hint of the smoke scent that should be drifting from the chimney or at least from the smaller braziers in the bedrooms. Even with the older man's current pre-occupation and his son's self-denial and disregard for creature comforts in his quest to become a stronger shinobi, surely one of them would have lit a fire. He knocked on the door, but quickly went in when no answer was forthcoming.

He wasn't sure why, but his instincts urged him on. He toed off his sandals and announced his presence as he approached the kitchen, his bare footfalls still managing to sound loud in the hallway lit only by a single dying lantern. The gray pre-dawn light coming through an open door allowed him to make his way across the formal tatami room and into the garden, searching for the inhabitants of the house. He called out again. Surely the weather was too cold for them to have simply fallen asleep watching the moon from the garden the night before. I know they are geniuses and can be a bit eccentric at times, but still…

The tattered shreds of morning fog combined with the light frost and the pre-dawn shadows made the garden a bewildering maze of black and white, giving a slight sense of unreality, even though he could distinctly feel the chill of the ground through his bare feet. He followed the sputtering pathway lamps toward the sound of a waterfall as the rapidly lightening sky made everything begin blurring into mottled shades of gray, and his footprints showed dark on the frosted grass.

He remembered his sensei's friend painstakingly constructing the waterfall for his wife as she expected their first child, making a quiet tinkling retreat beneath the shade of a small stand of maple trees. It was the same waterfall where that man and his son had built the small shrine after she died earlier this year. They had built a small shrine under the trees where she had loved to sit and play with her newborn son, under the trees where her husband had sung her love songs in the long summer evenings, their young son chasing and catching fireflies, pale skin and hair glowing in the moonlight. He recalled the ever-laughing, pale-skinned, grey-eyed kunoichi and breathed a quick prayer in remembrance. The stark beauty of the scenery gripped his heart as he rounded the bend in the path, to be replaced by sheer utter horror as he took in the grisly scene before him.

The White Fang, former hero of the village kneeled on the ground before the rocky cascade, his legs drawn up under his body, sitting on his heels, formal white kimono open to the waist, sleeves tucked up under his knees. A small table lay to his left, holding a small sake cup, a plate with the remains of a persimmon and a few chestnuts, a few sheets of mulberry paper, and a brush. A pool of sticky darkness encircled him as he kneeled, leaning into the heavier shadows, the sleepy _kakko-kakko_ of a cuckoo from the trees the only sound heard above the trickle of the small fountain.

As his eyes further adjusted to the softly dappled not-light of the early morning, he saw the small mound lying half in the shadows. He had mistaken it for a rock, but the silvery shock of hair revealed the truth. His chakra reached forth as quickly as his hand, searching for any hint of life in the unmoving pile lying motionless in the shadows, icy crystals starting to sparkle on the gray yukata and in the silvery hair as the sun made its relentless way closer and closer to the horizon.

Birds began stirring, and a cricket, hidden in some small pocket of warmth, chirped _chin-chiro, rin-rin rin-rin_ for a moment before the noise was drowned out by a dog in the distance. The boy was so cold; he feared he was too late_. Wait, there, the smallest flare of chakra_. The jounin carefully turned him over and stroked the pale, cold cheek, "Kakashi," he whispered. "Kakashi-kun, wake up, can you hear me?" Sandaime needed to know this information at once and the ANBU medics would be more qualified to treat the chuunin's hurts than the sweet-hearted smiling nurses at the hospital whose warm hearts would break seeing the fragile, icy, young shinobi in such a state. Namikaze-sensei gathered the small body against his, cradling him close, and pulled in his chakra to make the jump to the Hokage's tower.


	2. Nowhere Warm

**Genre: **Angst  
**Status: **WIP  
**Summary: **Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues...

**Warnings:** coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst

**Disclaimer: **You know Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, because if I owned them, yaoi pairings would be canon… lyrics from 'Nowhere Warm' by Kate Havnevik

Set within Hatochan's Tolerant Intolerance universe, eighteen years before the start of the Naruto series... a prequel to Before the Journey and the Rest... I apologize for the shortness and varying lengths of chapters in this one, but there are definite divisions in the action, and I'd rather preserve story integrity than try to impose uniformity of length. As always, to Hatochan, for being there when you're most needed.

**Song for a Winter's Dawn: Chapter 2**

**Nowhere Warm**

_I go nowhere high_

_Go nowhere warm_

_Until I see your smile _

_And feel your calm_

_I go nowhere high_

_Go nowhere warm_

_Until you're by my side_

_Your hand in mine_

_And I've always known_

_You're like a feather_

_You go where wind and fire _

_Melt together_

_But I'm sure you're on your way_

_Yes I'm know you're on the road_

_And I'm sure you're faster than before_

_Yes I know you're somewhere on the road_

_And I reckon there is nothing more to say_

[ Tuesday - early November - 18 years before opening of series

In a swirl of smoke, the barefoot Minato nodded to the boar and rat masked ANBU guards outside the Hokage's rooms. "Inoshi-san, Nezumi-san, I must get some information to the Hokage immediately. I also need a medic for Kakashi-kun, please."

One guard silently nodded and opened the door for the young jounin as the other trotted down the hallway.

He cradled the half-frozen boy closer and advanced into the Hokage's suite. "Sandaime-sama... I have urgent..."

"The report can wait, is the child alright?" the elder motioned him toward the small futon in the corner of the room used by the pair of ANBU guards. He came closer, observing closely as the young man carefully laid the child down and sat at his head.

"He was alive when I found him. That's all I know so far." He felt for a pulse, watching carefully for any movement of the small chest. Even now, away from the shadows of the garden he was all in gray, cold gray yukata covering pale pale skin, diamonds of frost matching the silver of his hair as they began thawing in the seemingly sudden warmth of the rooms. He deliberately threaded the thinnest stream of chakra into his young teammate, trying to warm and assess and finally just tie the youngster to this plane.

He heard noises behind him as the medic entered the apartments, still sitting stroking the almost gray cheek, staring at the silvery lashes hiding away the almost frightening intelligence that usually showed in the stormy eyes.

"What's in his hands?" the old man gently asked, knowing the grief the young jounin-sensei would feel if he lost his stubborn, precocious student.

Minato looked up. "What, Hokage-sama? Oh, I don't know, I came straight here. I found him in the garden. The White... that is, his father... he... he's dead. Kakashi was on the ground next to him... in the frost..." The normally smiling blue eyes were bright with unshed tears.

The hokage reached down to retrieve the items grasped in the boy's lap. "Ah," he uttered as he examined the items. "Seppuku?" the man inquired as he studied a crumpled sheet of paper

The younger man nodded as his leader passed him the rather bedraggled note. His heart clenched even more as he read the characters on the paper, the last two lines a dark brownish red color, in a shakier scrawl.

_Now the winter moon_

_has set, now falls the shadow_

_in the western sky._

_Crops wither in the dry field,_

_the scarecrow waits in the dawn._

He gave up the struggle and tears streamed down his cheeks to mingle with the melting frost and blood and ink on the page. He reached out to touch the back of one small hand, now seeing the slashes across the palms where the boy had gripped the blade of the tanto tightly through the night, and a smaller, deeper gash on the left hand. There was a slight movement, and he looked up to see the silver lashes flutter open, the normal intelligent sparkle dimmed to a lackluster gray he had never seen on the boy, not even after his beloved mother's death earlier this year. He was still cold and pale, but not that frightening bluish-gray. "Kakashi?" He couldn't ask if the boy was ok. The healer took the cold hands in his own as he healed the deep gashes.

Kakashi didn't even raise his eyes to meet his teacher's gaze as he answered, "'Tou-san's dead... Where he could see 'Kaa-san's shrine," the tone of his voice as dull and flat as his eyes.

There was a sharp hiss of pain as the medic ran his hands down the boy's side, searching out any more injuries. He pulled open the yukata and exposed the bruising down the left side. "Cracked ribs," stated the healer, holding hands above the mottled swelling.

"You said you were fine, Kakashi," his teacher accused, feeling guilty about the reprimand even as the words tumbled from his mouth.

A slight shrug, followed by a mumbled, "It didn't seem so bad."

The yellow-haired man drew in breath to make a reply when the Hokage interrupted. "I seem to recall having to order you to have your shoulder looked at last week..." The thought trailed off.

"But that was different, my shoulder always pops out. I know it happens, I know it will keep happening. I know enough to do a healing jutsu to take the tissue swelling down and take it easy for a day or two and then I'm fine..." He blushed as he realized what he was saying and how he sounded. He shot a quick glare at the older man who just chuckled, but even this by-play didn't produce a reaction in the drained young shinobi lying next to them.

"I've taken care of all the physical injuries, brought his core body temperature back to an acceptable level and given him a little bit of a chakra boost to try to ground him a little, but he still needs to stay warm in bed for a day. Two would be better, but I know that would be next to impossible with this little guy… too much like his father," the man paused with a fown, realizing what he had said. "He came very close to draining his chakra completely. He's also lucky he didn't die from exposure or have any serious complications from the cold. There was a touch of frostbite on 2 toes, but I took care of it." He reached into a pocket in his med-pack and retrieved a small tube of salve. "Rub this into his feet four times a day for the next 3 days and there shouldn't be any lasting damage."

He looked carefully into the Hokage's eyes, "He really should rest and stay quiet for the next few days. He needs to regain his strength and he can't do that if he's running around or training…" The medic quirked an eyebrow at Sandaime. " There must be some serious flaw in the teachings of this little one's sensei... and his sensei's sensei - and maybe that one's teacher as well? Don't think my father neglected to share his stories… They were an invaluable part of my training in dealing with difficult patients." The hokage flushed slightly and managed a slightly guilty glance.

"Keep him in bed today. If he is up to it, he can move around some tomorrow, but he really does need to take things easy. If he resists too much or things get out of hand we can ensure he gets the rest he needs." This last was oddly stressed as the medic handed a small vial of a clear liquid to Sandaime. "I don't recommend that he go the hospital; it's actually one of the worst places to rest and recuperate, what with all the nurses checking on you all the time. Does he have someone who can stay with him?"

"He's coming home with me," stated the jounin. "He's... he can stay with me."

Sandaime nodded, "It's settled then. Kakashi..." the older man's voice trailed off and the medic retreated to the fringes of the room. He started over again, his voice soft and understanding, "Kakashi, can you make your report, now?"

The exhausted youth nodded and began his tale.

**AN:**

I based Sakumo's death poem on a traditional form of poem called the renga, or linked poem, which begins with the traditional haiku verse composed by one person, and two units of seven syllables added by a second writer, completing the theme of the tanka poem(5-7-5/7-7). Sakumo intended the poem as a haiku, but I had Kakashi complete the renga form; more detail on this as Kakashi tells what happened in the next chapter.


	3. Song for a Winter's Night

**Genre:**Angst  
**Status:**WIP  
**Summary:**Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues...

**Warnings:** coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst, mega-angst in this one, some of you might want to keep the Kleenex handy…

**Disclaimer:**You know Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, because if I owned them, yaoi pairings would be canon… lyrics for Song for a Winter's Night by Sarah McLachlan

Set within Hatochan's Tolerant Intolerance universe, eighteen years before the start of the Naruto series... a prequel to Before the Journey and the Rest... Kakashi is eight. I apologize for the shortness and varying lengths of chapters in this one, but there are definite divisions in the action, and I'd rather preserve story integrity than try to impose uniformity of length. There is a set of authors notes at my LiveJournal which will help greatly in understanding some parts of this chapter... http// fuyu-no-akegata . livejournal . com / 10880.html#cutid1 As always, to Hatochan, none of this would be written or dreamed without you...

[ Tuesday morning - early November - 18 years before opening of series

_**Song for a Winter's Dawn: Chapter Three**_

_**Song for a Winter's Night**_

_The lamp is burning low upon my tabletop the snow is softly falling  
The air is still within the silence of my room I hear your voice softly calling  
If I could only have you near to breathe a sigh or two  
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love on this winter night with you_

_The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead my glass is almost empty  
I read again between the lines upon the page the words of love you sent me  
If I could know within my heart that you were lonely too  
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love upon this winter night with you_

_ The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim the shades of night are lifting  
The morning light steals across my windowpane where webs of snow are drifting  
If I could only have you near to breathe a sigh or two  
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love on this winters night with you  
And to be once again with you_

The exhausted young shinobi began his report.

"I came home last night from training. I had some leftover onigiri for dinner and went to the bath. I needed to soak so I wouldn't stiffen up overnight. There was a sound from the garden. I pulled on a yukata and went out to look. I only thought it was 'Tou-san in the garden remembering again. He does… did that sometimes since 'Kaa-san died. Even more lately..."

The method of delivery was familiar to both men, from far too many mission reports, the spiritless tone usually associated with seasoned soldiers left too long on the front lines, wearied from too much death. "I went out to look... 'Tou-san was under the trees, by 'Kaa-san's shrine... He... he was still alive. He told me he loved me, was proud of me. I... he was hurting." Tortured eyes lifted in a blend of confusion and mute appeal for understanding. "I performed the _daki-kubi_... He hadn't expected anyone to help, didn't want to ask… it was _jumonji giri_... and he was hurting... I couldn't let him die alone like that." A pleading tone crept into the voice. "I held his hands and kissed him. Then I told him he was still my hero and I severed his neck with his katana."

Kakashi sat quietly for a second before taking a single deep breath. "He slumped forward. I finished his _jisei no ku_… made it in_renga _form…the ink was all dried, so I slashed my palm with the tanto and used my own blood for the poem. I placed a few drops of water on his lips and went back inside, to cover the shrine. I placed candles and incense on the bedside table, but the only flowers I could find were some white roses from when Kaa-san died. Do dried flowers count? I went back to the garden. I wasn't sure if I should lay 'Tou-san down… there was so much blood. I couldn't lay a blade on his chest in that position, so I placed one into the front of his obi. I didn't know what else I was supposed to do… I couldn't leave him, though." Kakashi sighed softly. "'Tou-san is going to haunt me. My last words to him were a lie and I killed him." This was almost a whisper. "I killed 'Tou-san. I killed him. He's dead...**dead**. If I had been there… maybe I could have found him before… But I didn't want to go home, I wanted to stay late training with you, sensei…" he stopped, huge stormy gray eyes looking up and capturing Minato's vivid blue.

"Ah, Kashi..." his sensei gathered him in his arms, as the Hokage watched in stunned silence. "Shh, shh..." He crooned and hummed nonsense words to the broken boy, his own heart breaking. _He's only eight, damnit, too young... but he is shinobi... He's still a child... But was he ever a child, even when you first met him years ago? Still, to be __**kaishakunin**__for his own father...He's eight, dear sweet Kami-sama..._The thoughts swirled half-formed in the man's head and his tears darkened the silver head held close to his chest, strong arms trying to will his own strength into the stiff little waif-like ice-sprite of a child... a child their village had forced to grow up too soon, to see too much, to do so much more than too much. He caught the gaze of the older man, a question in his eyes as the horrible thoughts occurred to him_. What are we doing to all of our children? We have to win this war, but is it worth it if we turn an entire generation of children into cold-blooded killers, if we kill their spirit before it is even fully formed?_

Kakashi only sat there stiffly, in silence, in his teacher's embrace.

The medic returned with a small cup of tea, quickly adding a single drop from a phial in his pocket. He offered the cup to the yellow-haired man. "He should drink this. He needs to rest now, to sleep and heal."

Kakashi's teacher brought the cup to the boy's lips and he swallowed, unresisting, not even making a face at the bitter flavor. He laid the boy on the futon and covered him as the silver lashes quickly fluttered closed.

Sandaime stepped outside for a moment to give orders to the guards at the door. When he returned, he crossed the room, grabbing a flagon and 3 cups in passing, motioning the other men to join him. The medic shook his head and quietly dismissed himself. The Hokage passed the quickly filled cup to his companion as he downed his own in one gulp.  
The jounin took a sip, sputtering in surprise at the strong liquid, and raised an eyebrow at his teacher's mentor. "Shochu before 7am?"

"Maa, it's five o'clock somewhere," was the wise reply

The younger man considered that as he finished off the cup and pulled the flagon to him for another. "What happens now?"

"I sent an ANBU team to the residence. They should be back with a preliminary report within the hour, and then we can make the final arrangements for Sakumo. I will look into suitable foster families to care for Kakashi. Hmmm. Probably a family that has had ANBU members and knows what to do in certain situations, knows what signs to watch out for. All shinobi break at some time and know what to do for a comrade, but I fear it won't be quite that simple for our little one here."

"Sandaime-sama, you don't need to look for a suitable family. I meant it when I said I would take Kakashi with me. He is my teammate. His father was the good friend of my own teacher. I care for the boy and am as close to family as he has left. You know I was ANBU before he became my genin. You're the one who pulled me from them to be his sensei… I'll take him in. We should keep things as normal as we can for him."

"Hmm. Yes, that could work, although he still needs to stay with someone if you have to go out on a mission alone. I'll do all I can, but you know I can't promise that situations won't arise where we need your specific abilities. There are a few families that fit the criteria that also have children. We'll worry about that when the time comes, I suppose. We need to arrange for a memorial service as well. Sakumo deserves so much better, but a small service is probably advisable. We wouldn't want Kakashi to deal with any problems that might conceivably arise if we invited the whole village. Feeling is still strong after all these months. We need to get word to Jiraiya and Tsunade as well. They should be able to arrive in time if we wait till Thursday. I suggest Kakashi stay with you, as opposed to you staying with him, at least for a while. No use pouring salt in an open wound… or a hidden one. I know I don't need to warn you, but keep a close eye on him."

Minato wandered back to Kakashi's side, and Sandaime followed.

" I know…" the younger man sighed. "I'm not sure what to do for him, other than just be with him and watch him. He can be difficult on a good day. Not that I don't enjoy our time together. You know what I mean. He's just so...so… umm…"

"So Kakashi?" the older man supplied.

"Yeah," they shared tight grins at the thought of the young genius. "I wish he didn't have to go through this now. Not that there is a good time… but Kyoko hasn't even been gone a year. And then that mission of Sakumo's; I've helped out when I could, but you know how people are sometimes, even shinobi. Kakashi's probably heard every rumor in the village three times over. He wasn't taking it very well even before this. It would still have been difficult if he had died on a mission or fallen ill, but this? I don't know what this is going to do to Kakashi. In fact if it was only the suicide, I think he could still deal with it. It would be rough, but still… Kakashi has such a strict outlook on life. I'm not sure his brain realizes that his father was the one to kill himself. He only knows he struck the killing blow, and that's enough for him. If we aren't careful, he'll go to his grave honestly believing he killed his own father. I just hope nothing happens and that it's long after you and I are both gone…"

Minato leaned down over Kakashi. Wetness streamed silently down over his cheeks. He felt he had failed in so much, especially his duty to his young charge. He wept for a fallen hero. He wept for the tired, quiet man than hero had become. He wept for that brilliant, bratty child laying at his side who believed wholeheartedly that his father's actions were his own. He wept for the beautiful Kyoko, eight months in her grave and unable to see the ruins of her once happy family. He wept for their village and what they were forcing on their youth in this time of war. Finally he wept for himself, for the loss of one of his own childhood heroes and one of the last bits of his own innocence that somehow had stubbornly remained in place after all these years as a shinobi.

Sandaime placed a worn hand on the younger shoulder, a single tear of his own mingling in the darkening gold and silver strands.


	4. Love Like Winter

Genre: Angst

Status: WIP

Summary: Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues...

Warnings: coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst

Disclaimer: You know Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, because if I owned them, yaoi pairings would be canon…

Set within Hatochan's Tolerant Intolerance universe, eighteen years before the start of the Naruto series... a prequel to Before the Journey and the Rest... Kakashi is eight. I apologize for the shortness and varying lengths of chapters in this one, but there are definite divisions in the action, and I'd rather preserve story integrity than try to impose uniformity of length. As always, to Hatochan, none of this would be written or dreamed without you... and gigantic thanks to Vernajast and my daughter Tori-chan for the discussion and additional beta

Tuesday morning - early November - 18 years before opening of series

Song for a Winter's Dawn: Chapter Four

_Love Like Winter - AFI _

_Warn your warmth to turn away,_

_Here it's December, everyday._

_Press your lips to the sculptures,_

_And surely you'll stay. (love like winter)_

_For of sugar and ice,_

_I am made. I am made_

_It's in the blood, It's in the blood._

_I met my love before I was born._

_He wanted love, I taste of blood._

_He bit my lip, and drank my warmth,_

_From years before, from years before._

_She exhales vanilla lace,_

_I barely dreamt her, yesterday. (yesterday)_

_Read the lines in the mirror through,_

_The lipstick trace. (Por siempre)_

_She said "It seems you're somewhere,_

_far away" to his face._

_It's in the blood, It's in the blood._

_I met my love before I was born._

_She wanted love, I taste of blood._

_She bit my lip, and drank my warmth,_

_From years before, from years before._

_Love Like Winter._

_Love Like Winter._

_Winter._

_It's in the blood, It's in the blood._

_I met my love before I was born._

_He wanted love, I taste of blood._

_He bit my lip, and drank my warmth,_

_From years before, from years before._

_From years before._

"Come," Sandaime announced to the triple knock at the door, never taking his eyes from Minato and the small, still mound of bedding on the floor, or the fair-haired sensei waiting close by.

A tiger-masked ANBU bowed from the doorway. "The police force has completed its preliminary investigation and the ANBU team can go in, now, Hokage-sama."

"Thank you, Tora-san. If you will wait a moment, I would like to accompany them. Minato?"

The young jounin was shaken from his reverie. "Yes, Hokage-sama?"

"They're ready for the ANBU team, now, and I'm sure the police force still has some questions. Will you come with me?"

Minato stood up, but hesitated as he looked down at the still body next to him.

"He's sleeping, Minato. There's nothing you can do here other than wait. Yanagi-san will stay with him."

Minato reluctantly nodded, following the village's leader. Several minutes later, the Sandaime, Minato, and three squads of ANBU stood just outside the gates of the Hatake estate. A uniformed police-nin stood aside as they entered.

They were met along the walk by the rising young star of the police force, Uchiha Fugaku. "Hokage-sama, Namikaze-san, Anbu-san." A dark head bowed to the exact degree of deference required for each person, and not an iota more or less. "Please show us the path you took, Namikaze-san, and describe what you saw as fully as possible. I'd also like an explanation for why you were here so early and felt free to just walk in as you did."

Minato gasped at the flat tone and implication of the words and glanced at the Hokage for reassurance before answering. At the Sarutobi's grave nod, he began. "Sakumo-san's son Kakashi is my student. It's become a habit to meet him here before training or missions twice a week since… well… that mission. It started as a way to spare the boy some of the crueler gossip. He may be shinobi, but he's barely eight, and no one needs to hear comments like that about their own father. The civilian villagers and even many shinobi seem to have conveniently forgotten or deliberately ignored that Sakumo is… was… Kakashi-kun's father. I realize people are upset and even incensed about the outcome of that mission, but they shouldn't make the boy choose between respect for his father as a shinobi and love for the man as his parent. What adult could make that choice easily, let alone a young chuunin?" They passed by a leafless clump of winter-reddened branches, and an errant gust caught a strand of golden hair on the uneven bark.

They continued up the walkway to the house. It also became an easy way to discuss Kakashi's training and progress with Sakumo, uninterrupted. None of the elders, council members, or any other officials were ever here questioning or badgering him at such an early hour. As time went on and his disgrace became more widespread, I used it as a chance to observe him, as well. Kakashi is part of my team. I need to be aware of anything that could adversely affect his welfare or performance. As for walking in unannounced, I've known Sakumo-san since I was a genin. Jiraiya-sensei brought our entire team here often. Sandaime-sama was often here, as well, then. I was invited several years ago to treat the Hatake as my own family, and indeed, Sakumo-san as well as Jiraiya-sensei has been as a father to me.

Minato stood in silence a moment before the open door, wondering why it looked no different, now, than it had two days before. He shrugged the thought away. "There was no answer to my knocks, and no smoke on such a chill morning, and I suspected something was wrong. Sakumo wasn't on a mission and Kakashi is not a late nor a sound sleeper. No one was in the house. I knew something was wrong when he wasn't waiting for me in the kitchen or the dojo. He's always on time, usually even earlier than I am. I went outside, thinking maybe he was training there or coming back with Sakumo from an early visit to his mother's shrine. It's easy to find the way, even in the dark."

They began tracing his path through the house. Minato was visibly upset to those who knew what to look for. Sandaime saw the way the younger man kept rubbing his hand across the bandages holding his kunai holster in place, and the way his eyes darted around the shadows of the house, as if he expected an enemy to jump out at any moment. In fact, his entire body exhibited the tightly coiled awareness expected on a mission in enemy territory, not in the familiar and well-loved confines of a comrade's home. They paused before each bedroom, as he must have done this morning, and outside the crimson dojo doors, and the Sarutobi saw the tension gathering in Minato's jaw. When the young sensei averted his eyes from the covered family shrine, the Hokage realized he was ready for an attack, and in fact was already engaged in a battle of sorts.

He watched even more closely. He observed the way almost shaking fingers reverently caressed the worn wood of a doorframe when opening the portal. He heard the slow, careful footsteps down the hallway, voice lowered, although no one remained to wake with a careless noise. He noted the slight, telling pause before he opened the door to Sakumo's study, the dead man's most private sanctuary. The rust-colored bricks of the cold hearth seemed to stare back in accusing silence, and Sandaime felt Minato's lowered gaze and somber expression as he paused in the kitchen, the one-time cozy, warm heart of the dwelling, which already seemed an empty, shadowed ghost of itself. How can the place feel abandoned already, with Sakumo not even in his grave?

By the time they stopped outside the doors to the formal, tatami-mat covered room, Sandaime himself was staring into each shadow. He almost expected Sakumo's ghost to come out and berate them for dragging the horde of uncaring invaders through the home. He recognized the expressions just barely flitting across the now silent Namikaze's face: worry, regret, and loss. He himself felt heavy, unsettled, smothered by the atmosphere that had settled like a funeral pall on the once happy home. The air was thick, though. He caught a whiff of incense, bitter with the unshed tears of the young one who had lit it hours ago. It had a cloying scent, almost choking him, lingering in the corners and refusing to be dispelled, but somehow not quite managing to overpower the dry scent of the withered roses, now twice cursed by death.

This was the smell of regret; his as Hokage at losing a fine shinobi and having his youngest, most promising chuunin most likely scarred and broken already at an age when his peers were still at the academy; his as a man who'd lost a treasured comrade, one who'd always been a measured voice of reason in counsel while being strong, right arm on the battlefield. He suspected Minato regretted not walking the boy all the way home the night before, was probably even now full of 'if only' thoughts, sure he could have stopped the older man. It was hard to tell what Kakashi regretted more, performing the last final service for his father, or his mixed feelings for the man. Surely Kyoko regretted the events of her tragic demise, which had ended now, with yet another loss for her family. And although Sandaime knew the body wasn't inside, he fancied he could sense the heavy, metallic tang of blood in the very house, as if it embodied the very essence of Sakumo's many regrets.

Minato bowed his head and they crossed the covered floor, silence pulled close like a warm blanket against the chill, and filed out of the still open shoji screens to the garden. The musical tinkle of water could be heard even above the voices of the many dark-clad men writing on scrolls, comparing notes, scattered like a murder of crows outside the house. His voice was husky when he began, again. "I followed the path to the waterfall. It's always been a very special place to them. Sakumo was there, kneeling beneath the maple trees, facing his wife's shrine." Minato paused momentarily, remembering the beautiful jounin. "Kyoko-san, especially, loved the place."

He cleared his throat roughly before continuing, and his breath fogged a bit in the cold air. "It was seppuku. At first, I didn't notice Kakashi lying in the shadows. He was so still and cold, faded, barely a spark of life or chakra left in him, and I brought him to the Hokage tower. Sandaime-sama needed to know about Sakumo-san and I thought perhaps the ANBU medics might be better suited to dealing with the situation than the healers at the hospital. One of the medics was able to revive Kakashi, and then he told us just what had happened. He had walked in on Sakumo shortly after he'd performed the ritual. He was sitting there quietly, waiting to die. Kakashi performed daki-kubi because he couldn't bear to watch his father suffer needlessly any longer. He performed the other death rituals and kept vigil all night, lying at his father's side." His tone and manner of recitation matched closely those Kakashi had used such a short time earlier, although it seemed a lifetime ago.

They came to the top of the hill. Sakumo was still kneeling beneath the maples, sticky ground stained dark as the leaves scattered on the ground. Here and there a careless foot had churned the soaked soil into mud, overturned a patch of scarlet leaves, kicked over one of the (red granite) rocks precisely lining the sitting area beneath the trees, and in one place, had even trod through the long burgundy-tinged grasses bordering the path.

Fugaku's voice was overly loud in the stillness. And it was still… as if even nature was showing respect for the fallen hero. "If it was seppuku, where is the blade? The death poem?"

Sandaime spoke up. "The tanto is in my office, where it will remain. You can examine it there, if necessary. I will take the katana with me as well, when I go. There are those, even among your elite force who would not scruple to damage or defame the White Fang's sword. Kakashi's is the only hand with the right to destroy the blades. I have the note here." He pulled the wrinkled paper from an inside pocket and handed it to the Uchiha.

Fugaku grunted sourly. "The child wrote this?"

Minato nodded. He was standing tall, chin lifted slightly and hands behind his back, and Sandaime remembered the stance from the deliberations when he had been appointed as a sensei so young. "It's his writing. And his blood. The ink was already dry, so he slashed his palm with the tanto."

"Did he know no better than to use a blade desecrated by death?" Open disbelief tinged the Uchiha's words.

"I'm sure the state of the blade was his first concern, Uchiha-san." The normally carefree jounin's voice dripped sarcasm and scorn.

Fugako's eyes narrowed. "Where is the boy, now? I have some questions for him, as well."

Minato gasped, sputtering at Fugaku's apparent unconcern for the newly orphaned boy, and it was left to Sandaime to answer. "He spent the night outside in nothing but his yukata, fresh from the bath. He's in my office, with the medic who treated him. He thought it best to keep him sedated, considering everything he'd been through. He'll be there for at least another day before we can move him, and because I want to personally make sure of his well-being, as well." The Hokage's eyes pierced those of the police officer's, telling him exactly what he thought of the attempted intimidation tactics.

Either the Uchiha was oblivious or had a repressed death wish, because he continued in the same vein. "The boy is young, he'll heal eventually. We need the information. Time makes memories fade. Drugs blur perception of the events even more. What will the boy remember when you finally allow him to wake up? Or is that your intent? What are you hiding?"

Before Sandaime could intervene, Minato straightened even more, every line of his body tense and unyielding. He spoke low and calmly, enunciating each word with care. "There is nothing to hide. Every word I spoke is true, as witnessed by our Hokage and an ANBU healer. According to our laws, that is sufficient proof, but I will testify before whatever tribunal you wish the truth of my words. Does any 'evidence' point to murder? Has anything led you to believe Kakashi snapped and killed his father in a fit of madness? That determination would be made by the ANBU teams, not the police force, and if my student had snapped, I would be there with him now, despite all the urgings of Sandaime-sama. My only intent remains to spare the boy any more trauma, keep him from reliving the event until he is able to deal with it more easily."

"Is the boy so fragile? As you say, he is a chuunin, a shinobi of the Leaf. You are doing him no favors, coddling him so. The weak die young." The man paused and the Hokage prepared to intervene, but Minato interrupted before he got the chance.

"Never fragile. He is one of the strongest people I know, and that is why I worry. The willow bends in the gale, yielding to the winds, but not so with the oak. Even the strongest, straightest oak may be damaged by the wild storm, and how much more damage when the tree is still growing? Kakashi is shinobi, truly has been even before he gained the hitai-ate. Through no help from me, he was trained by one of the best our village has ever produced. Sakumo was a good man and he knew so many things you or I could only hope to learn. He was the best, despite everything that happened. If a good, strong man as he can bow under the weight of life, what more could happen to his son, who does not yet have the years of experience in learning to deal with it? The boy takes deep personal responsibility for anything he thinks he could have changed or done better, and that is why I worry about Kakashi.

"The boy is fast approaching jounin level, despite his years, but I wont warp him with the added responsibility, with all the political maneuvering and backstabbing that comes with the appointment when he is so young, and truly, what genin team would accept a sensei near half their age? The council didn't want to accept me, and how many years older am I? Many jounin refuse to accept the evidence before them, seeing only a young child, or 'the White Fang's cursed brat.' What hope would he have on missions? A seedling will flourish and grow tall unbelievably quickly with days and nights of constant sunshine, but eventually the flaw will show. Such a tree gains insufficient roots to anchor it; it grows too tall to sustain itself or even remain upright. Kakashi would grow so much faster if I didn't reign him in and make him learn something of life along with his training, but he would be just like the tree, and never thrive or flourish in this world.

"I am not coddling him, not that he would ever allow it, and I would never blunt the effect of life's lessons for him, although I would prefer to let him deal with them at a slower pace now until he is older and better equipped to handle such things alone, if need be. Life takes training just as anything else, Fugaku-san. I will let him deal with increasing levels of difficulty as his training progresses. The human soul can suffer training injuries just as the body does, and I want him sound in mind and body when the time comes that I am no longer his teacher. I want to prepare him for everything to come. A shinobi's life is difficult, why make it more so, with the added stresses of flawed training and forced growth? I know Kakashi and what is best for him. Please accept my judgment as sensei in knowing how to train my student properly. If you have no more relevant questions for me, I hope you will excuse me. I wish to mourn a fallen comrade." Minato stopped, knowing he had given the other man sufficient knowledge to see his methods and that he would accept it or reject it on his own devices. No amount of reasoned words could persuade a man against his will if he refused to see any validity in another's viewpoint. Minato bowed and walked away to kneel in the shadows beneath the maple trees, already far away in thought.

Sandaime re-assessed his opinion of the young sensei even higher as he handled the difficult situation with a grace the Hokage had not expected, and what had once been an almost whimsical idea firmed into hardened resolve. This young man was more than worthy to be the village's future leader.


	5. An Early Winter

Genre: Angst

Status: WIP

Summary: Kakashi became a genin at 5, a chuunin at 6. His first break was at 8... Kakashi comes of age earlier than anyone ever expected... angst ensues...

Warnings: coarse language, violence and gore, steadily building angst, wordy talkative Hokage

Disclaimer: You know Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, because if I owned them, yaoi pairings would be canon…

Rating: PG-13 just for angst, violence, and gore

Set within Hatochan's Tolerant Intolerance universe, eighteen years before the start of the Naruto series... a prequel to Before the Journey and the Rest... Kakashi is eight. I apologize for the shortness and varying lengths of chapters in this one, but there are definite divisions in the action, and I'd rather preserve story integrity than try to impose uniformity of length. As always, to Hatochan, none of this would be written or dreamed without you... and gigantic thanks to Lecanis for the discussion and beta.

The story referencing Kyoko's death is Hatochan's Show and Tell Chapter Four, Show Me Yours which is Kakairu, and an excellent read. Lots of hot sex and yummy angst and plenty of fluff, something for everyone.

I've also written a sidestory to Winterdawn, In My Hands. Warnings for Sakumo and Kakashi angst.

still Tuesday morning - early November - 18 years before opening of series - I promise, the day will eventually end...

Song for a Winter's Dawn: Chapter Five - Early Winter

_Early Winter - Gwen Stefani _

_The sun's getting cold, It's snowing_

_Looks like an Early Winter for us_

_Looks like an Early Winter for us_

_An Early Winter_

_Oh I need you to turn me over_

_It's sad the map of the world is on you_

_The moon gravitates around you_

_The seasons escape you_

_And I always was, always was one for crying_

_I always was one for tears_

_No, I never was, never was one for lying_

_You lied to me all of these years_

_It looks like an Early Winter for us_

_It hurts and I can't remember sunlight_

_An Early Winter for us_

_The leaves are changing colour for us_

_And it gets too much, yeah it gets so much_

_Starting over and over and over again_

_And it gets too much, yeah it gets so much_

_Starting over and over and over again_

_And it gets too much, yeah it gets so much_

_It looks like an Early Winter for us_

Sandaime waited quietly off to the side, intruding as little as possible on Minato's grief. He took a final glance at the bright head of hair near glowing in the shade beneath the maples before turning away to take the opportunity of a rare, quiet moment to remember Sakumo and his family as they had once been.

Hatake Sakumo had been a promising student at the academy and had surpassed even their high expectations for him. Sandaime remembered his own student Jiraiya following the slightly older boy around and the patience Sakumo never lost with him. Over the years, he'd shared the good and the bad with his constant shadow. They'd been quite the pair of hellraisers, and Sandaime didn't see their like again until the unlikely duo of Umino Iruka and Shiranui Genma and the ever-inseparable pair of Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo. Still, for all the drinking, gambling, and wenching, Sakumo had been a calming influence on the boy, especially once he'd met the lovely young Midoku Kyoko.

Kyoko was the daughter of a veteran shinobi turned bookseller. Her mother had died giving birth to a stillborn son, leaving Midoku Kisho the sole parent of his sweet-tempered yet stubborn four-year-old daughter. He could deny her nothing, and she knew it. Luckily for him, she reserved her wilful nature for moments of importance. She was a staunch defender of the underdog, an advocate for the downtrodden, and a soft-hearted rescuer of strays and the abandoned. Kyoko's persistence forced her father to agree to her entering the shinobi academy at six and, ultimately, eleven years later, set her down the path that would leave her son an orphan by age eight.

Sakumo had gathered his not inconsiderable courage and humbled his even more considerable pride and presented himself to Kisho-san. The ex-shinobi's bookstore catered to the various, eclectic tastes of his clientele. The shelves were lined with volumes of tactics and strategy as well as purple prose and erotic nudes. Poetry and philosophy nestled close by shounen manga and crime noir. The man was known for expanding his buyer's tastes in directions they would never choose, themselves, otherwise, but none ever complained. Apparently, he applied the same strategy to potential suitors, for in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage, he gained Sakumo's promise to take diplomatic training on the birth of their first child.

Sakumo and Jiraiya made repairs to his small estate. He'd been born there, on the outskirts of Konoha, in the rambling dwelling built in the traditional style, nestled amid wooded gardens. He hired two teams of genin to clean and arrange the furniture so it in some small way resembled a cozy home. The gardens he left wild, except for an area around a twisting path that led up a small knoll to a copse of maple trees. Sandaime absently brushed away a dark crimson leaf from his shoulder.

They'd married during a cease-fire, laughing amid their circle of friends, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and the newly married Uminos, and had departed with a promise of two weeks without interruption from the village. When peace negotiations fell apart, they voluntarily reported back for duty immediately, and so great was Konoha's need that no one turned them down. They spent the final days of their honeymoon in the Hokage Tower, planning for an assault on Sand.

Once Sakumo married, he had still lived every second of his life to the fullest, but his energies were channeled and given an outlet on missions, only, not expended in foolish highjinks and meaningless debauchery. He became the exception that proved the rule that active ANBU should not be in serious, long-term, committed relationships, let alone marry. Marriage only focused him even more, and as he settled down, so too did Jiraiaya, to an extent. The budding pervert finally began devoting proper effort to the research and training that Sandaime had tried to instill in him for anything other than spying on the ladies. He even accepted a genin team, something Sandaime had despaired of ever seeing. And if Friday evening training sessions more often than not consisted of dinner with Sakumo's new family, well, there were all sorts of life lessons to teach to the future of their village.

Sandaime would never forget the quiet solemnity underlaid with deep joy when Sakumo formally resigned from ANBU upon returning home from a mission and learning of the impending Blessed Event. Kyoko happily transferred to the Mission Room for the remainder of her pregnancy, and Sakumo continued taking what missions were best suited to his skills, completing them quickly and efficiently without cutting corners, returning home to her as soon as was possible. He smiled as he recalled the impressive, matching black eyes Tsunade gave Sakumo and Jiraiya when she came out to introduce the newest member of the Hatake clan and found them almost too drunk to stand, and how Minato held the tiny child even before his inebriated father and his own sensei.

As promised, Sakumo underwent diplomatic training after Kakashi's birth, and it was the deepest irony that the training Kisho-san had intended to boost his son-in-law a few steps up the leadership ladder and ensure the family's continued success, instead lead to his being picked to lead that disastrous mission which led to his downfall. By that point, Kyoko was three months in her grave, herself the victim of revenge for a mission that ended badly. Kyoko was killed because a member of her team didn't come back. Sakumo killed himself because he chose not to inflict that same grief on the family members of his team, choosing their lives over the success of the mission. He never once, even under official questioning, divulged that a teamate's use of a highly discouraged jutsu endangered them to the point that he had to make that choice. That was something each one of them would have to live with each time they saw the masked face of the last Hatake.

Sandaime was so lost in thought he didn't hear Minato come to his feet and begin his slow walk back to the dwelling. Only the loud call of a raven called the Hokage back to the present. He said a silent prayer for the fallen man and signaled the waiting ANBU to go about their appointed tasks. As he left, he saw two ANBU kneel by the body, hands joined and stretched toward the head of white hair, reading the final blurred thoughts, confirming Minato's telling. At a shrill whistle, two masked Hunters came to examine what final secrets the body held and forever veil them from outside eyes. The remaining ANBU waited, some guarding the body until it could be reduced to ashes in a funeral pyre the next day, some waiting to move the body when the Hunters had finished with the first stage of their grisly chores.

He continued on, two of his personal guard following, silent as shadows. He waved his escort off, momentarily, when he reached the house. Minato was sitting on the raised walkway outside, cheeks and hands red with the cold. Sandaime gestured to the kitchen and sat across from Minato at the worn but comfortable table. "I am deeply sorry for my behavior, Sandaime-sama. I will strive not to let it happen again." Minato gave a small, seated half-bow.

"So formal, Minato?"

The young sensei was near thrumming with barely harnessed energy, tense with the stress of not fidgeting, squirming, moving. Blue eyes remained focused on the table's scratched surface. "I have responsibilities, Sandaime-sama. I... I always have... but... I feel the weight of this particular one, for all I undertook it willingly."

"Is that what has you as tense and formal as a Hyuuga at temple?" Sandaime gave a little smile. "Minato, you've been Kakashi's sensei for three years, now. You already take care of him, teach him, protect him from harm. For the last few months you've done even more. The only real difference, now, is that it will all be official."

"And that everyone will know... They'll judge him by me... and me by him. They don't know him like I do. They'll assume I'm a poor teacher because of his personality, or look badly on him before they ever know him because of how they see me. My informality, my levity, my temper... They'll reflect badly on him. And I know the council thought I was too young, too inexperienced to be his teacher. How, three years later will I convince them I'm worthy to be his guardian? They should give him to someone from a strong clan, someone with a family. The only thing I have to offer him is love. What do I do, Hokage-sama? I care for him, want to help, but what if I mess up? He's too important to me to risk hurting him, damaging him more, with my bumbling efforts."

"Ah, Minato, don't you see? Love is what he needs, and is the one thing I know you will give him that no one else could, in quite the same way. He already knows and trusts you. He needs you to remain with him, to keep him from closing himself off completely from his emotions. Without you, at this young age, he'll become just like one of those cold-blooded killing machines from ROOT. Danzou and his cronies have been approaching the Council trying to take him for training for years now. There was no worry it would happen when both his parents were alive, but since that cursed mission, it's become a constant battle against them. The fact that we're having this conversation shows how seriously you take this responsibility. Just be there for him, continue watching over him as you always have. Keep him grounded in this world and don't let him fade or withdraw too far. You're not alone, Minato. You have myself, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and the Uminos to help. We'll be there for you when you need us. Just be there for him."

Minato nodded earnestly, and Sandaime noted the slight shaking of the table as Minato began bouncing his leg, unconsciously. Sandaime smiled fondly, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Let's take care of some of these new duties and get some of the funeral details out of the way for Kakashi so he doesn't need to, eh?"

Minato nodded, ready to start on his newest obligations.


End file.
